Adel quietly focused on her heart amidst the chaos.
After killing Vincent Rogato, he had kept coming to mind with strange persistence. She had read about Vincent's unfortunate childhood and even felt a twinge of sympathy.
Not that it made his crimes any lighter.
'Anyway, the central figures are different people, so whatever I do, those two will fall in love on their own. Besides, I don't know how it happened, but it seems I've entered a past that's already passed, so maybe it doesn't matter what I do.'
If so, couldn't she step in now? Even if nothing changed from the future she knew, she couldn't just stand by and watch that situation.
First, she felt like she needed to give that brat a good hard flick on the forehead to vent all her pent-up frustration. Since the villain Vincent had been tormenting her, this situation felt even more intolerable.
'Right. Let me teach this one some manners! But I can't just resort to violence against a child...'
He was already a child who had been abused at home. It had to be discipline, not violence, so she needed to be somewhat careful.
Adel looked around and spotted the wall behind Vincent. It wasn't decoration, nor was it a shop's fence—why was it so randomly there?
'Is that... some kind of strange phenomenon? Like how the ground collapsed when the marbles shattered...?'
Whatever it was. As discipline, and as a small act of revenge, that wall seemed appropriate.
Wasn't a villain's nature all about bullying the weak and cowering before the strong? If she showed overwhelming power, he might feel fear and reform.
Of course, that was only possible if she could actually influence things.
At that moment, Vincent raised his fist.
According to what she had seen in the glass marble, that fist would hit the maid square in the eye, and she would lose her sight. Vincent would initially feel guilt, but as everyone kept silent about it, his conscience would gradually transform into pleasure.
This was the event that could be seen as the beginning of Vincent Rogato's villainous deeds.
'I have to stop it, since I know everything.'
There was no more room for hesitation.
Whether for revenge or discipline, this was her only chance. Even if the future didn't change, as long as her own heart felt at ease, wasn't that enough?
Adel couldn't just stand by and watch someone get hurt right before her eyes.
She still didn't understand this suddenly given situation, but her life had always been full of things she couldn't comprehend anyway.
With firm resolve, Adel strode toward Vincent. Perhaps because of her confident gait, Vincent stopped yelling at the maid and turned to look at her.
His arrogant expression clearly conveyed the thought: 'What is this now?'
When she finally stood before him, Vincent was bigger than she had expected.
'What? Was he always this tall?'
Come to think of it, because she had regained consciousness in an unfamiliar place, she hadn't properly assessed her own condition.
Now that she looked, everything seemed large and tall. Even though Adel wasn't exactly short herself.
No, an adult like her couldn't possibly be smaller than the little brat Vincent. She gulped at this absurd situation and looked down at her own hand.
'Wh-What is this tiny thing?'
It was such a small, so soft palm. Seeing it with her eyes felt unfamiliar, but the tiny fingers that wriggled according to her thoughts had vivid sensation—there was no way it wasn't her own body.
It seemed that in order not to startle the main character Vincent, Adel had also been made younger. A world that truly had no regard for Adel.
Adel clenched her fist in anger.
'With a child's body like this... I have no strength at all. I can't even discipline him properly!'
She was thinking she might have to just pass by like a casual pedestrian, when—
Adel felt a certain power in her small fist. A very familiar sensation. It was the very power that had led her to victory on the battlefield.
Due to her youthful body, she felt no muscle tension at all, but oddly enough, that sensation was unmistakably present.
If she could refine and control this, knocking down that arrogant brat before her would be...
'No, violence against a child is wrong. That wall will be enough.'
Clearing her mind again, she focused on her fist. It was definitely the power she had frequently used.
'I can do this.'
Adel steadied her breathing and stared intently at Vincent. Vincent seemed flustered by her gaze, then grew angry, reaching out his arm and shouting.
"Who are you! Get lost!"
But the thin boy's arm couldn't move Adel's sturdy body even a single millimeter. Vincent looked at his stinging hand with a bewildered expression.
The people watched the two with great interest. Only the maid shook her head in horror, mouthing for Adel not to step forward, telling her to run away.
But Adel had no intention of backing down even an inch.
'I need to properly discipline this ill-mannered brat so I can find peace in death.'
But could she, who hadn't truly been alive, even find peace in death? Well, whatever.
Adel glared at Vincent with all her might and said.
"That won't do."
"What?"
'How much power can I exert with this body?'
She raised her fist to gauge, but something felt insufficient. It seemed that with a child's body, she wasn't as strong as before her death.
'If so... I'll put all my strength into it!'
She gathered power in her hand. As she tightly clenched her fist—much smaller than even that little child's hand—Vincent, who had been sizing her up from head to toe, twisted one corner of his mouth in a smirk.
Adel ignored the reactions around her and continued gathering power. Controlling her energy with this body felt awkward, but she could quickly pinpoint the moment to strike.
Timing her attack, Adel thrust her fist forward. The fist, too fast to be seen with the naked eye, narrowly missed Vincent's cheek and struck the wall behind him directly.
CRAAAASH—!!
With a tremendous noise, the wall crumbled along with a cloud of dust. The eyes of the onlookers, who had thought Vincent's victim count was about to increase, flew open wide.
"If you do bad things, you'll get scolded by me."
Vincent's eyes, which had been trembling, slowly closed, and he fainted on the spot. Adel didn't even glance his way, examining her fist that bore not a single scratch.
'Definitely much weaker than before,' she thought, evaluating her power, and the corner of Adel's mouth lifted.
It was thanks to the satisfaction of having gotten at least a small revenge on the Vincent who had tormented her in life.
"Still... regression isn't so bad."
The House of Rogato had several taboos.
The most important among them was not to displease the sensitive Duke. To this end, all servants coordinated their movements with the Duke's schedule.
If servants passed by noisily during his active hours, being quietly dismissed would be considered fortunate.
There were other rules as well, but they weren't too difficult to follow. And there were also rules created for the servants' own comfort.
Regarding Vincent, the servants had made a pact among themselves to diligently cater to their young, pitiful yet vicious young master.
Everyone in the mansion knew that the head of the household despised his own son. He inflicted terrible corporal punishment under the guise of discipline, and after that, it fell to the underlings to appease Vincent.
The mansion's young master tormented servants until his anger subsided. Many thought, 'It's just a little kid throwing a tantrum,' but when it actually happened to them, they learned to fear it.
Setting traps in the hallways, pouring ink into mop water, putting laxatives in the servants' food—Vincent had to vent his anger on others in proportion to what he suffered from his father. Since the servants couldn't dare say anything to the young master, they had no choice but to quietly let him release his temper.
Still, until now, it had been just light pranks, but recently he had apparently tried to use physical violence like the Duke. Thank goodness it hadn't gone that far.
Violence is like a drug—once you fall into it, you can't escape.
"About Young Master Vincent."
"What?"
"He's been quiet lately, hasn't he? Not even shouting."
Indeed, Vincent had been remarkably well-behaved lately, to the servants' surprise. Becky, who was diligently wiping the floor with a rag, chuckled at the remark.
"How long will that last? He's probably plotting some weird prank again."
"Ugh, don't be so harsh. He's pitiful. Only seven years old and his body is full of scars... My heart aches every time I see him."
"Pitiful, my foot—"
Suddenly, an agitated voice rang through the dining room.
